The Distant Affair
The air in the War Office smelled of dust and old varnish, a scent that had seeped into Elias Thorne’s wool tunic until it was indistinguishable from his own skin. He stood before the desk of Major Halloway, his spine rigid, his hands clasped behind his back to hide the tremor that had begun in his shoulders an hour ago. Before him, on the floor, sat Private Miller, a boy of nineteen with a...
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